Fuck It

I was fine. I talked to Brett, and I was fine. Brett can get through to me when most others can't. I was better. I was going to be able to sleep at least, somewhat.

Then Jay calls me at fucking 3:30 in the morning, after I've already had a difficult enough time falling asleep...and now I don't think I can even function anymore. The little blue pills look like Heaven right now. I can't sleep any more tonight, I think that's a given.

I hate you. I really, truly, hate you. There's nothing you can say to fix this now. Nothing.